Vendetta
by sugarcrazedninja
Summary: The team is all dead, Bishop used them for his ugly experiments and thought he was done with them. Michelangelo has come back to have his revenge, he just doesn't quiet realize it yet. Crossover with "Crow", rated for violence, colab with Micheal J Angelo


Ow. Who knew pain could be so colorful?

Even with his eyes clenched tight, he could see a rainbow dancing to and fro in the darkness. The rainbow was actually a pretty good dancer. But there were more important things to consider than dancing rainbows. The first one being, 'why did it hurt so much?' followed closely by, 'where am I?'

He tried to raise his hand to rub away the colors in his eyes, but it bumped against the…ceiling? The hard ceiling. Strange, something in his mind said the ceiling wasn't supposed to be that low, or that cold. Why was it so cold anyway? No, it wasn't just the ceiling, the whole 'room' he was in was freezing cold, like a fridge. Lowering his hand, he decided to open his eyes to find out his exact location. He saw nothing but black, and a few traces of white…that were coming from…his feet? Although it pained him to do so, he craned his neck to look down towards his feet, and was surprised to see little beams of light coming into his icy prison.

Looking at his feet caused a whole new wave of pain to envelope his body, especially on his chest and chin. The rest of his body felt like it was being pricked by millions of needles, and he felt itchy…really itchy. Knowing there was nothing beneficial about just laying there thinking, he decided he should find a way to escape. Realizing his feet were touching the edge of the little room thing he was in, he figured he should try to kick it to see it was open. Although it caused him excruciating pain, he brought his knee as close as he could to himself, before kicking at the square. Luck was on his side as the 'box' slid forward slightly, light covering his battered legs up to his knees. In a couple of kicks he was forced to cover his eyes from the unexpected brightness.

As soon as his eyes adjusted to the new source of light, he dared to look around. Of course, he leaned too far to one side, which caused him to topple onto the marble floor with a loud crash and a girlish yelp of surprise to soon follow. It wasn't a very long fall, since he was close to the ground, though it still felt like he fell off a building. He groaned into the ground, muttering incoherent things as he slowly pushed himself up. Using the now metal stretcher type thing he was previously in for a support, the battered turtle pulled himself up to a standing position.

Looking to where the 'box' used to be pushed inside of, he noticed there was a row after row of the things, the top row barely touching the ceiling. Something clicked in his mind, he had seen this strange type of thing before, though he couldn't recall where. He tried to remember, but searing pain shot through his head as he gripped tightly at the edge of his support, though it didn't do anything to lessen the pain.

_It was as if he was experiencing a dream, everything having faded kind of look and with a weird yellow tinge. So many different thought and emotions raged through his mind as soon as he saw the scene before him, all of which he simply did not and could not understand. He could see a soldier walk into the room, the exact room he was in as he had come to notice, walk straight through him up to a man wearing a black cape and sunglasses. Many negative emotions flowed through his mind as soon as he saw the man; it felt…wrong though, as if it was not natural of his nature to feel such negativity._

_"Agent Bishop Sir, the four specimens are in the specified mortuary slabs just like you ordered," the soldier piped up, probably new to the job from his nervous tone of voice. The man acknowledged the soldier with a curt nod, the soldier taking this as his cue to get out of there._

_"Prepare another one next to them, Michelangelo is going on a little…visit very soon." Bishop commanded, making the guard freeze mid-step before heading towards where he was at, in front of the rows of 'boxes', mortuary slabs from what the guard said. The guard opened the slab the turtle had gotten out of at the beginning of this story, and began to spray it with some type of liquid before checking the thermometer that he had not noticed before. His attention was diverted from the guard when he heard an unnatural growl coming from in front of where Bishop was, though the man's back was blocking the person from where he was standing._

_Wondering who it could possibly be, he walked away from the mortuary slabs until he was able to see what was going on, though he didn't expect to see a mutated turtle wearing an orange bandana strapped down to a dissection table. The turtle continued to struggle against the straps tying him down, eyes narrowed at Bishop, who just stood there, smirking like a madman._

_"Now, now, Michelangelo, you should be honored that I've left you for last. I have something very special for you…" somehow, that didn't sound like something to be honored about to him, probably to the turtle too. It was obvious he was planning to do something to 'Michelangelo', something that needed him to be dead. Possibilities of what could be done to a five foot mutant turtle body raced through his mind as he watched Bishop pull something out of his coat pocket wearily, suddenly feeling sick to his stomach. He felt sorry for this turtle; though he knew he couldn't do anything to help him._

_"I'll see you in hell." Michelangelo spat defiantly, using one of his all time favorite movie lines to cover up his fear. The turtle knew it wouldn't help him get out of his predicament, but it felt good to say it straight in Bishop's face. Bishop was unfazed by his statement, and pulled out some strange kind of alien gun._

_"Surprised? You shouldn't be, I'm making your death the easiest." Bishop smirked at the look on Michelangelo's face, and stuck the fun barrel to the side of his head. The turtle turned his head slightly so he could look at Bishop, shocked that he was going to make it quick and without large amounts of torture._

_"Why? Why me? you let my brothers and father suffer for days before they died, why make my death so quick?!" Michelangelo demanded, wincing at the hoarse tone in his voice, his chest wounds making it painful for him to speak. He admired the courage of this turtle, it was obvious he was biting back showing any sort of pain to this man._

_"You're useless to me alive. I need your body unscathed; the other mutants have already…donated their bodies to other experiments." Bishop replied with a small shrug, pressing the barrel further against Mike's head. Said turtle heaved a heavy sigh, a forlorn look in his eyes as he looked away for a minute, before looking back at Bishop, narrowing his eyes and clenching his teeth._

_"It's not fair! To my brothers, to my sensei! You can't give me such a quick and painless death!" Michelangelo hissed, though he couldn't resist a cringe when he heard the clicking of the gun against his head._

_"life isn't fair. The world thanks you and your family for your sacrifice." Bishop grinned, and that was all the turtle heard before the world blurred together and faded into black._

He was very disoriented and confused when he got out of the dream, what exactly happened? Rubbing the back of his head with a small groan, he felt something fall to his shoulders and shell. Little flakes of sticky red stuff, that couldn't be normal. But at least it explained the itchy feeling that he had felt earlier. Checking the rest of his body, he realized he was covered in the red stuff, especially on the back of his legs and arms. It was then that he bluntly realized the red was not some sort of chemical or paint; it was the coppery liquid known as blood, only dried up.

Something rustled from behind him, making the turtle quickly whip his head around to see what had caused the noise. At first, all he saw was the wall, until he noticed a pair of beady little black eyes staring directly at him. Strange, he could have sworn not a single living soul was in the same room that he was in.

"uh…hello?"

The person, or thing, didn't even twitch; it was really creepy the way it kept looking at him like he was food or something. Without warning, the creature cawed as loudly as it could, before looking at him square in the eye again. The only animal he knew of that could caw like that was a crow, though he had to wonder what a bird was doing in a lab in the middle of nowhere. It suddenly turned to a particular slab, hopping onto the handle of the thing before tapping it three times with its beak. This bird was definitely not normal, unless he was going crazy…figuring he should comply with the bird before it started cawing again, he used the wall of slabs to slowly drag himself towards the crow. The crow wasn't satisfied with his progress, for it soon began to tap it's beak against the metal like a woodpecker.

"Stop that, or you'll get us both caught by whoever runs this joint." He said, but like the bird would actually listen to him and comply his silent plea. The bird just looked at him curiously, hopping to the side as he grabbed hold of the handle of the slab.

Judging from the way the bird kept pecking at it, there had to be someone it wanted him to see. He couldn't believe he was following the judgment of a crow, but his head pounded and his body ached far too much for him to really care at the moment. With a couple of strong tanks, the slab opened fully to the bright lighting of the lab. He couldn't suppress a startled gasp at the sight of the person lying there.

It was another mutated turtle, just like him! Only it was a darker shade of green, and he was obviously much bulkier than he was. The turtle was way too familiar, though he couldn't remember his name. He felt a strange kind of connection with the larger turtle, like he was his best friend, only stronger. He felt sympathetic to the poor turtle, noticing all the scars over his body, especially a particular large cut on his plastron.

He guessed that if he tried to remember what the turtle's name was, he would probably be thrown into yet another 'dream', which seemed to come with a rather large headache. Headaches don't disappear in the blink of an eye though, and he was still suffering the after effects of the last dream. The crow apparently didn't think so, and cawed its protest quiet loudly.

"Look, bird-thing, I don't know what you want me to do…"

That was a half lie, but he wasn't about to tell that to the bird. If he didn't know any better, he could have sworn the crow rolled its eyes at him. Placing one of his hands over the wound on the turtle's plastron, he frowned when more dried blood attached itself to his large green fingers, though he didn't remove his hand from its location.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he watched the crow fly over and perch itself on the slab, at the head of this poor turtle. The crow then lowered its head and started pecking at something hidden under the dead weight head. He used his other hand to try and brush the crow away, finding it disrespectful to the dead. The crow did not leave. Instead, it lifted its head, pecked at his hand, and went back under.

"Get out of there." He whispered hoarsely. The crow came back up with a red fabric clasped in it's beak.


End file.
